


Stuck Between A Nightmare and Lost Dreams

by momentsintimex



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Cemetery, Father's Day, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Grieving, I'm Sorry, this is a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-26 01:39:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14989967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momentsintimex/pseuds/momentsintimex
Summary: Larry had always wanted to be a father. He watched the way his own dad raised he and his brother and always imagined himself being the same. Taking weekend camping and fishing trips with his kids, teaching them the little things in life that you may never need but it’s always nice to have. Having a catch in the backyard, spending time together going to baseball games. Just. Raising them with memories and precious moments like the ones he has with his dad.Now, when he thinks about how he is as a father, he isn’t sure he deserves a day to celebrate that accomplishment. At least not after what the last few months had brought.—The first Father’s Day without Connor proves to be more difficult than Larry could’ve ever imagined.





	Stuck Between A Nightmare and Lost Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> title of fic from Broken Home - 5 Seconds of Summer
> 
> inspired by the addition to [ this text post](https://for-f0rever.tumblr.com/post/175012037128/larrymurphydeservesredemption) on tumblr :)

Father's Day had never been a big deal at the Murphy’s.

The kids would make little gifts at school when they were younger, proudly handing them to Larry on Father’s Day along with breakfast in bed. Larry would always say he loved them, bringing the little art projects and homemade cards into work to hang at his desk for a few months after. And although they were nothing spectacular — Connor really didn’t start getting the hang of art until he was almost through elementary school — they took the time to make them. And he loved them.

The first Father’s Day without Connor felt totally different to all of the others.

He isn’t woken up by breakfast in bed, not that that was much different from the previous few years. Instead his wife is already up and getting ready to spend the day outside doing yard work, but she leans up for a quick kiss as he moves to get ready himself. “Happy Father’s Day, sweetheart,” She whispers, her hand resting lightly against his chest. It almost seems like something else lingers at the tip of her tongue waiting to be said, but whatever she plans on saying she holds it back.

Larry had always wanted to be a father. He watched the way his own dad raised he and his brother and always imagined himself being the same. Taking weekend camping and fishing trips with his kids, teaching them the little things in life that you may never need but it’s always nice to have. Having a catch in the backyard, spending time together going to baseball games. Just. Raising them with memories and precious moments like the ones he has with his dad.

Now, when he thinks about how he is as a father, he isn’t sure he deserves a day to celebrate that accomplishment. At least not after what the last few months had brought.

If there was anything he was sure about in life, it was that parents were not supposed to bury their children for any reason. But just nine months before this first Father’s Day without his first born, he stood in a cemetery between his wife and daughter as they said their final goodbyes to Connor, a funeral service he _knew_ shouldn’t have been happening, and one that he wished he could just wake up from as if it was a bad dream.

The guilt that racked Larry’s body over the last nine months was unimaginable. He had spoken to therapists, gone to support groups, but nothing seemed to help him shake the fact that he felt like he was partially responsible for his son’s death. He knew Connor was struggling. He had watched him as he withdrew from the world, getting involved with the wrong crowds before eventually having no friends at all. He noticed the cuts on his arms once or twice, but never asked Connor about them. Never thought that maybe there was more he could give his son than what he had. He watched as he became angrier, and yet he never pushed for him to get help.

He just didn’t know how he was supposed to live with himself after all of that. When there was so much more he _could_ have done, but didn’t.

And now he’s left with the shell of a family that’s very much broken, and every day he knows he’s the cause of that. He knows he’s the reason why things are the way that they are.

So today he plans on working in the yard, cleaning out the shelves in the garage, and acting like he’s anything but worthy of celebrating a day that he used to once love spending with his kids.

—

Normally Zoe and Connor would pull together the day before Father’s Day and sign a card for Larry, giving him some little gift they thought he would like. One time it was a box of golf tees, which he ended up loving despite Connor and Zoe fully believing that it was a throwaway gift, one that he would say he appreciated but it would end up being put in a drawer or on a shelf in the garage only to never be touched.

Now, weeks before Father’s day, she agonizes over what card to even get him. Or a gift, or if she should sign Connor’s name to any of them.

Google is no help, apparently, because everyone has their own opinions and Zoe has really been trying to spend the least amount of time thinking about her brother since his death nine months ago, and so she doesn’t think someone on a forum saying how he will always be a part of the family and therefore should have his name on the card is advice that’s really applicable to her.

She thinks about asking Evan or Alana or some of her jazz band friends, but they’ve never lost a sibling and they really think that Zoe is kind of blowing it out of proportion on how much she says she doesn’t miss her brother that she thinks asking them will probably just start a lecture that she really doesn’t want to have.

Cynthia would probably just start crying if she asked her. Say how Connor was still his son even if he wasn’t physically here, and she absolutely should sign his name on the card. Which Zoe thinks is a pretty biased answer considering she was Connor’s mother and she probably felt like she had to say that, so. She’s pretty off the table, too.

And going off Mother’s Day is no help because she _had_ signed Connor’s name on that card, but that was more because her mom cried at the drop of a hat over Connor and she missed him more than she’s ever missed anything else, which… Zoe understood. But it made the decision easier because her mom would appreciate Connor’s name being signed on the card.

She isn’t sure if her dad would.

And so she sets out for the store weeks early to find her dad a gift, surprising herself when she realizes she’s wishing Connor was there with her.

Connor had always been better at picking out the gifts, even after he and Larry stopped getting along. Even though in the last few years Connor and Zoe wouldn’t go shopping together, he’d always come home with some gift that would end up being perfect for him, and so she’d go out and find the perfect card and that kind of summed up exactly how they worked when they stopped getting along.

Zoe would always get most of the credit for the gift and the card, Larry always assuming that Connor just slapped his name on there and didn’t really have much input. It wasn’t a wrong assumption — Connor and Larry’s relationship had quickly turned sour when Connor realized he wasn’t going to help him — but Connor never corrected his parents either way. He just let them assume that Connor did the least amount of effort with Father’s Day gifts, and Zoe never did anything to refute it.

She ended up finding some book about the history of baseball and bought it for him as a gift, despite the fact that it felt wildly boring and not even something her dad would like. She finds herself walking back to her car mumbling to herself about how Connor would’ve done better, but stops herself when she realizes it doesn’t matter, that this isn’t Connor’s issue anymore and she doesn’t have to compete with him.

She finds the first funny card in the wall of cards, glancing through them before deciding which one her dad would laugh at, and quickly buys it before she can second guess herself. Because she and her dad were close and she was a daddy’s girl and even though it’s a weird Father’s Day to be celebrating this year, she still thinks he deserves to be appreciated.

She stashes the card and book in a drawer in her nightstand for the next few weeks, and the night before Father’s Day she remembers that she hasn’t even signed the card. So she pulls it out, grabs a pen from her nightstand, and quickly signs her name.

Her pen hovers over the card, hand shaking as she thinks about signing Connor’s name. Hypothetically, what her mom probably would’ve said is right. Connor will always be Larry’s son.

But Zoe ends up deciding that it feels morbid to sign his name from the afterlife as if he had magically risen from the dead for a few minutes to sign a Father’s Day card for Larry, who he didn’t even get along with, and so she ends up putting the cap on the pen and not signing his name in a decision she’s fairly sure she’ll end up regretting.

—

Larry comes downstairs to homemade waffles and fruit, and he already feels like it’s more than he deserves. “It’s Father’s Day, Larry,” Cynthia smiles as she slides the plate in front of him. “You are a father, you deserve to at least have a nice breakfast.”

Everything just feels forced.

Zoe comes down with a smile on her face and a gift bag in her hand, walking over and kissing her dad on the cheek. “Happy Father’s Day,” She smiles, handing him the bag.

“You didn’t have to get me anything, Zoe,” Larry smiles, taking the gift bag and quickly opening it. “Sweetheart, I love it,” He says as he flips through the book that he had seen at the bookstore a few times but had never bought for himself, genuinely surprised that she would think to get him it.

He’s seriously happy with his gift, but he can’t bring himself to think that he deserves it, even though he is still very much Zoe’s father, and she wants to celebrate that on a day where everyone else is celebrating their fathers.

And then he opens the card, feeling like he’s been punched in the gut when he only sees Zoe’s handwriting on it this year. No signature from his son.

It makes him feel like the night they had found out Connor died. Suddenly unable to breathe, wondering where everything had gone wrong. Immediately blaming himself.

Which is more what he deserved to feel, he thinks.

He leaves the gifts on the counter as he finishes his breakfast, letting his wife know that he was going to clean up the garage while the weather was oppressively hot. She looks like she wants to say something to him, talk about why he’s so upset with himself and remind him that maybe he should _let_ Zoe celebrate him, that this doesn’t have to be a sad day.

She just kisses him on the cheek and doesn’t say anything.

The garage has always been the place where he would come to when he just needed to breathe. To think about things, get away from the turmoil inside of the house and let himself think about everything that had just happened. He doesn’t spend nearly as much time out there as he used to, but it’s been months since he’s cleaned things out and gone through things, and he figures today is probably the best day for it.

Everything was going fine, things were put back in their places and he felt like he could think better, like his head was maybe clearer now that he wasn’t surrounded by a mess.

And then he finds a box of Connor’s old things.

An old baseball glove, one that he had bought him a few years back that still had the tag on it. It was his last ditch effort to connect to Connor, to find something that they could do together in hopes it would make him happier, but it obviously didn’t work.

Underneath the glove was Connor’s first glove and baseball cards he collected when he was 5 and 6, all organized by what team they played for. There were little notes of things he would write down back when he was interested in baseball and would watch the games, his little handwriting almost enough to make Larry cry.

It was a harsh reminder of everything he had lost nine months ago.

He puts everything back in the box neatly, pushing it back up onto the shelf and grabbing his things to go back inside, where Cynthia had been cleaning off the fruit and washing up the kitchen.

“I was thinking about making steaks for dinner? I know they’re your favorite,” She says off-handedly over her shoulder, turning around to look at her husband and immediately becoming concerned. “Is everything okay? Did you get hurt? Did something happen?”

Larry shakes his head, resting his hand against the granite as he sighs. “I found a box. Of Connor’s things,” He mumbles, finding himself on the verge of crying. “I think I’m going to go over to the cemetery for a little bit. I just… I need to.”

Cynthia gives him a smile that’s so full of sympathy he almost feels sick, nodding as she dries off her hands. “Of course. Take your time,” She says softly, leaning up to kiss her husband quickly before he turns to leave the house alone, setting off for the cemetery by himself for the first time in months.

The drive to the cemetery is short, classic rock playing on the radio quietly the whole way there. He turned the radio off briefly, but found that being left alone with his thoughts was almost too much to bear, something that he didn’t want to have to do in that moment.

Connor’s resting place is mostly filled in with grass now, situated in the middle of a row towards the back of the cemetery. There were flowers resting against his headstone, a gesture that Larry can only assume was done by Cynthia in one of her many visits she makes to see their son, even though it usually leaves her upset and wishing that she could find a way to bring him back.

Larry’s been to the cemetery a handful of times alone since Connor’s death, but mostly found excuses as to why he _couldn’t_ go. He used to talk about big cases he had to work on, meetings his clients were requesting he’d be at, or really anything that he could think of that his wife wouldn’t question.

He refused to let himself believe that he was making all these excuses because he couldn’t bear to visit his son’s grave.

He comes to a stop just next to Connor’s headstone, taking a moment to just read it. Take it in, let himself remember that his son is gone and he possesses a lot of the blame. And then kneel down to run his fingers alongside the etching of the granite marking where his son is laid to rest.

“Hi, buddy," He mumbles, although it doesn’t feel right and he feels so wildly out of any sense of comfort he has that his voice doesn’t even sound like him. “I thought since it was Father’s Day I would come say hey. I’m sorry it’s been so long since I’ve been here last.”

Right after Connor had died Cynthia had thrown the whole family into grief counseling. Larry didn’t protest it, realizing that maybe it’d be a good thing they all went, even though he felt completely numb to everything and he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to get anything out of it.

There they had learned coping mechanisms. How to keep going on, how to talk through what had happened and how they couldn’t blame themselves. Larry disagreed wholeheartedly with everything their therapist said in those sessions, but he never outwardly expressed it because he knew it was helping Cynthia and Zoe and he didn’t want to take that away from them.

But now, nine months after they had buried Connor and the loss still feels too real, like maybe it had just happened the night before, Larry stands at his son’s grave and remembers back to those therapy sessions where they talked about how talking to Connor wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. And it may even help them feel better.

“It’s funny, but even after all these years I can still remember the exact moment you were born,” Larry continues again, moving to sit down in the dry grass. “It was a cold Winter day, and you came into the world just as the sun began to set outside the hospital room. And your mom and I, we were so happy to have this little boy and he was finally here and you were _perfect_. And I held you for the first time and I knew that nothing else I ever did would compare than being able to be your dad.”

He feels himself getting choked up. He tries not to cry in the middle of the cemetery. “You made me a father all those years ago, Connor. And when I sat holding you in that hospital room while your mom slept I promised you that I would never let anything bad happen. That I would always protect you.”

He takes a shaky breath, wiping at his eyes. “If I could rewind time, I would go back and rewrite everything that’s ever happened with you. Because looking back I know I didn’t do the right things for you, even though I thought I was trying my best. I didn’t get you the help you needed, I didn’t talk to you or sit down with you and figure out what was going on. And I wish I had now and I know it’s too late and wishing that isn’t going to bring you back, but god, I wish I could.”

“I found your baseball things today,” He laughs, shaking his head. “I know you didn’t love baseball as much as I wish you did, but finding all your cards still organized and your first glove and the one that I bought you a few years ago just brought back so many memories. And all I could see when I closed my eyes was that little boy who was missing his front two teeth but still smiling so big at baseball pictures. And I just… I can’t help but wish we could go back to those moments. Where you were happy and everything felt okay.”

There’s a beat of silence, one where Larry listens to the birds chirping and the cars passing by, struggling to think of what to say. “I’m sorry,” He finally comes up with, but he _knows_ it’s too late and it definitely doesn’t mean as much now. “There’s nothing else I can say but that I’m sorry that I didn’t do anything sooner. That… that this happened. And I know that this is my fault but I just… I miss you so much, Connor. And I wish that you were here today celebrating with us. I’m always going to wish that you were here to celebrate things with us.”

He stands up, bending over to kiss the granite softly before resting his hand on top of the headstone. “I’ll be back soon, I promise you. I’m not going to let it go this long between visits again,” He whispers, chewing on the inside of his lip for a moment. “I love you, Connor. More than you ever realized or could’ve ever imagined. Thank you. For making me a father.”

He turns and walks back to his car, turning it on and giving himself a moment to just cry. And then compose himself so he could drive home without looking through his tears.

Cynthia smiles when he walks through the door, but doesn’t ask how visiting Connor was, which Larry is grateful for. He just leans down to kiss her cheek, diving in to help her with dinner while they sing along to the music playing through the speaker like they did when they were newlyweds without children yet.

Dinner feels like any other night, and Zoe talks a lot about her plans for the summer and how she plans to help Evan with some things with The Connor Project. It feels normal, like exactly how Larry had wanted to spend the day because he didn’t think that celebrating him as a father was at all appropriate.

Zoe comes back downstairs well into the night to say goodnight, kissing Larry on the cheek. “Happy Father’s Day, Dad,” She smiles, standing up and looking back at him. “Maybe we could look into going to a baseball game this week? Like we used to when we were little?” She offers.

For what feels like the first time all day, Larry smiles. “I would love that,” He nods. “We’ll look at tickets tomorrow.”

Zoe nods, smiling as she says goodnight to Cynthia, making her way upstairs.

Cynthia and Larry make their way up to bed not long after, shutting everything off and climbing into bed side by side. “You’re a really good dad, you know. I’m so glad that I got to watch you raise our babies,” Cynthia smiles as she pulls herself close to her husband, leaning up to kiss him.

“I don’t deserve all this praise,” Larry mumbles once he’s shut his light off, almost as if he’s afraid to say it out loud when his wife would be able to see him. “I… I didn’t help Connor enough. Why should I be celebrated if I couldn’t even help my own son?”

He hears Cynthia sigh, shifting as if she’d be able to see him while looking up at him. “Larry, there are a million things we can both look back on and wish we did different. But while Connor was here you did the best you could. You are still an amazing dad to Zoe, you know that. You absolutely deserve the praise.”

“Just wish I did more for Connor,” He whispers, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. “I just. I wish he was here. He made me a father, and now we’re celebrating without him.”

“We all wish he was here,” Cynthia comments, resting her head back against Larry’s chest. “We’re always going to wish he was here. But just because he isn’t and just because you didn’t do everything you could have doesn’t mean that you don’t deserve to celebrate Father’s Day.” She pauses, but Larry knows she isn’t done. “Connor idolized you. And I know things weren’t good the last few years, but he always loved you. And you should go to sleep remembering that you did what you thought was best and you loved our little boy more than anything else in this world, and that’s what matters.”

Larry nods, thanking her quietly as he rubs her back. He doesn’t believe a word she says about him deserving to celebrate this day, and when he falls asleep with this ache in his chest that’s been almost constant since the night Connor died, he wonders if he’ll ever feel like he’s worried to be celebrated as a father again.

He doesn’t think he should.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry for this i just saw the text post the other day and was like... okay but what if i wrote this and then THIS HAPPENED and i got really carried away basically hopefully you guys still like it though/don't hate me!
> 
> you can come talk to me on tumblr if you'd like! for-f0rever.tumblr.com
> 
> thank you for reading! <3 <3


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